Menu

Red

Dry eyes like large raisins
as water teases hair
like crumpling paper mocks the writer
the sun’s drilled a hole in my forehead
snow melts down my eyes
and into my ears
sealing the noise trapped
and i wish i were back at the spring
in the middle of the woods
so i can hide my face in the trees
and hang from my jaw between half notes,
a dancing hummingbird, and full snores
loud enough to overcome the sound
that wore her eyes red